


Down a Crooked Road

by distantattraction



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: I don't know how to tag on this site, M/M, fistfights as foreplay, gay detectives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 17:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantattraction/pseuds/distantattraction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy and Cole let one of their daily arguments escalate into a fight designed to reduce the stress caused by work, and they end up releasing an entirely different brand of tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down a Crooked Road

**Author's Note:**

> also on tumblr at lanoireangstcorner.tumblr.com

"Christ, Phelps, could you take any longer to get ready to leave? I've had broads ready for dates faster than this. If you'd been any longer, I would've sworn you'd turned into one."

Cole frowned as he reached the sidewalk outside Hollywood station. "Do you ever stop?" he asked.

"Stop what?" Roy asked, grinning.

"Making stupid comments."

"Don't be like that, Cole. You know that's where all my charm comes from."

"For your sake, Roy, I really hope that's not all you've got going for you."

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that. Now let's go, we've got junkies to arrest."

"I need the keys if I'm going to drive, Roy."

The other detective laughed as he tossed him the Cadillac's keys.

 

The day turned out to be much longer than either of them had expected. It wasn't supposed to be difficult to track down this particular cache of morphine, but its sellers were so doped up that they hardly remembered their own names, let alone who they sold the product to. One dead end turned into another, and the detectives got more and more frustrated with every passing hour. Unfortunately for Roy, Cole's anger seemed to manifest itself in his driving. He winced as Cole clipped first a street sign, then another car, and then a streetlight. The crowning jewel of this car ride was the man crossing the street that Cole almost killed by not stopping before the line.

"Alright, that's it. Get out of the car," Roy said, turning to look at Cole.

" _Excuse me?_ "

Roy rolled his eyes. "We're obviously both in desperate need of a drink, and we're closer to my apartment than any bar. Now shut up before I change my mind about letting you back in. And at some point, you might want to talk to Bekowsky about your driving."

"His talks never did leave much of an impression," Cole muttered as he opened the door of the car.

They changed seats. Cole sat in silence as Roy turned into exactly the kind of semi-glamorous neighborhood Cole had just known Roy lived in. He was surprised he was getting an invitation, really; Roy didn't seem like the type of man who often shared drinks with coworkers at his apartment.

He must have really wanted that booze.

Roy's apartment fit the type of man who drove his car and wore his suit: It was far out of the price range of cops in any other department, and even the lower ranking Vice detectives couldn't have been getting enough bribes to be able to afford a place like this. Neither of the men was in much of a talking mood as they took the elevator up to Roy's floor. Cole followed his partner silently down the hall, stepping through the doorway after Roy.

The inside of the apartment was much less ostentatious than Cole had expected; the furnishings were obviously worth a good amount, but it wasn't overly done. Cole could probably have afforded everything in the apartment in a few years. The dining room table was small; Roy set a bottle of very expensive whiskey onto its surface along with two glasses. He filled a glass and set it down in front of one of the chairs before pouring a drink for himself.

The shared silence continued as they drank, its weight pressing down on them. It was Roy who acknowledged it first. "What, you're not going to say anything? None of your cute little comments this time?"

"I don't really know what you expect from me, Roy."

"Alright, Cole. I'll make you a deal." Roy paused to drain his glass before continuing. "We fight. You get a chance to take out all of your anger at me, and I get a chance to show you that you're not as high and mighty as you act. Sound good?"

"What?"

Roy rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Phelps. You're not that thick. You and me, mano a mano. We both know that you can't honestly say you've never wanted to hit me." Roy stepped out from behind the table, taking up a fighting stance.

"I'm not just going to fight you for no reason, Roy."

"What's the matter, Cole? Afraid I'll knock your ass down?" Without any real warning, Roy threw a punch. Cole blocked it, but barely.

"Okay," Cole said, raising his fists. "If you really want to dance."

"Oh, I promise I do."

 

They'd fought side-by-side before, but this was their first time facing each other as opponents. Both men found themselves underestimating the other: Roy was faster than he looked; he managed to dodge a lot of Cole's strikes. Once one connected, however, Roy found that Cole knew how to put power behind his attacks.

They were evenly matched. _Too_ evenly matched--they were in this to release their aggression, not to have a clean little round of sparring. The fight turned dirty quickly enough. Roy kicked at Cole's leg, causing him to fall. Roy made to perform a finishing move on him--one of the strikes that so often sent criminals sprawling--but Cole rolled out of the way. He staggered back to his feet, and Roy turned around just in time to see Cole charging him. Cole's shoulder hit Roy solidly in the chest, sending him flying to the ground.

It took them both a moment to recover from the blows, but they had their fists raised again almost simultaneously. This round, Cole threw the first punch, and Roy ducked to the side to avoid it. They circled each other slowly, each attacking every few seconds, but neither of them doing any real damage. After about a minute of this dance, Cole's stance slipped, giving his opponent the opening he needed to get the upper hand.

Roy grabbed him by the lapels of his suit. Knowing what came next, Cole braced himself for impact--he'd done this maneuver before, and he didn't look forward to being on the receiving end of it. But instead of being thrown onto the floor, Roy dragged him closer. Cole didn't have much time to be confused before Roy revealed his intentions by bringing their lips together. Cole made a noise of shock and shoved Roy back, breaking the kiss. He then swung a fist, knocking Roy down. Roy fell hard and sat looking up at Cole from the ground, rubbing his face. He glanced down at the hand he'd used; there was a flash of red on his knuckles. Cole had split his lip.

Cole did not like the way Roy was smiling at him.

And then there was that sudden speed of his again. Before Cole even realized Roy had stood up, the bigger man had him pinned to the wall, a hungry look in his eye.

"What the fuck, Roy?"

There was that smile again. "What's the matter, Cole? Not the way you expected that fight to end?"

And then Cole's belt was on the floor and he didn't know what was going on. He had enough of his wits about him to slap Roy's hands away when he made to undo the buttons of Cole's shirt, but Roy managed to find a way around that, too. He slipped his tongue between Cole's lips, drawing his attention away from his suddenly open shirt.

Roy's hands reached for the buttons of Cole's pants next, but Cole grabbed his wrist, holding him back. "Roy," he said, doing his best to keep his composure. It wasn't working; he could hear his voice quivering as he spoke. "We should not be doing this."

Roy easily broke Cole's grip and continued undressing him as he spoke. "Shouldn't we? Are you sure you're not enjoying it? When's the last time you got laid, anyway?"

"I am most definitely _not_ enjoying this."

He froze as Roy moved again. There was absolutely nothing about this day that had prepared Cole to be standing against a wall in Roy Earle's apartment with his pants around his ankles and his partner's hand in his underwear. More unexpected things _had_ to have happened, but for some reason, Cole found himself unable to think of any.

"Could've fooled me. Judging from the state of your cock," Roy said, almost absentmindedly stroking it and eliciting a gasp from Cole, "I'd have to say that you are definitely aroused. Congratulations."

"F--fuck you, Earle."

"I'm afraid you've got it backwards, partner. I'm going to be the one fucking _you_."

"No, you are _not_ ," Cole said through gritted teeth.

"Why not? You're certainly hard enough, and so am I. Let's do something about that, shall we?"

In a single, fluid motion, Roy spun Cole around so that he faced the wall. He tried to push himself back and regain any bit of leverage he could, but Cole quickly found his wrists crossed and pinned above his head. With his free hand, Roy unbuckled his own belt, which fell to the floor beside Cole's.

 

One hand still held Cole's wrists to the wall; the other traced lines across his bare chest, making him shudder. A moment later, the hand moved. Cole heard the click of a container being opened near his head. He discovered what it was when Roy swiftly pulled Cole's shorts down so he could slip a lubricated finger inside him.

Cole jerked forward, away from the offending digit, but the wall didn't leave him much room to maneuver. Roy inserted the finger again. Cole's attempts to fight the intrusion didn't go unnoticed, but they didn't prevent Roy from adding a second finger. Roy sucked on Cole's neck surprisingly gently, softening the blow slightly. The fingers moved in and out, exploring the space in Cole's ass. Judging from the sounds he was making--and clearly trying to stifle--he had never been touched this way before. That didn't surprise Roy, but he was certainly going to enjoy changing it.

He released his grip on Cole's wrists, but the other man left his arms where they were. Roy smirked as he wrapped his hand around Cole's dick, pumping it in time with the movements of the fingers of his other hand. This made Cole straight-out _moan_. Roy laughed as Cole's cheeks flushed red. "Having a good time yet?" Roy asked, rubbing circles on the head of his cock.

That comment got a rise out of Cole. Roy saw the hands on the wall clench themselves into fists. Cole pushed himself back, away from the wall, and pivoted his feet. Roy took advantage of the movement, grabbing Cole by the back of his neck and turning with him. Roy kept the momentum going, pushing them both forward until they reached the dining room table, which Cole found his face pressed into. Roy quickly tugged Cole's open shirt and jacket off his shoulders before reaching toward his chest to loosen his tie so it could be pulled over his head.

Getting forcibly stripped hadn't been in Cole's plan either. He tried to stand back up, but Roy made a reproving sound and put a hand on the back of his head, pushing him firmly down. The sound of a zipper followed, succeeded by the click from before. Even though he knew what was going to happen next, Cole still gave a start at the feeling of Roy's cock pressing against his flesh.

"Roy," he said quickly, "this is really not a good idea."

"Come on now, Cole, we've already talked about this. Besides, I think it's a grand idea." He pushed forward slowly, entering Cole one inch at a time. Cole was still fighting him, his hands still balled into fists. "You know," Roy said as he started moving back and forth, sliding in and out, "this would go much more easily for you if you just relaxed."

"And why would I want to do that?"

"You'd probably have more fun."

"I think I'd have a better time if I went back to punching you."

"Isn't that sweet. How about," he said, his words following the rhythm of his movements, "you keep. Your mouth. Shut--" the last word was punctuated by a particularly strong thrust-- "and let me give you the fucking of a lifetime?" Cole bit down hard on his lip to keep himself from making a noise. Roy didn't let up; he pushed faster and harder, making Cole grab the edge of the table in an effort to stop his hips from hitting the wood. It didn't do much to lessen the impact. He was sure he'd have bruises from this.

He kept willing himself not to take any pleasure from it, but it just felt _good_. It was clear enough just from the way Roy talked that he was no virgin, but Cole had never expected to be on the receiving end of that experience. Before long, his breath came in ragged gasps, and his hips had begun to move in time with Roy's.

 

The other man could feel Cole starting to enjoy himself more--however reluctantly it must have been--which was his cue to slow the pace down, driving Cole closer to the edge. Cole groaned in frustration, but Roy kept his movements measured and deliberate. If the Golden Boy wanted more, he would have to wait--or worse, ask.

 

After a torturous minute, Roy began gradually increasing the rate of his thrusts again, a course of action for which he was awarded by the smallest of affirming noises from the man below him. Roy grinned, pushing harder. Cole reached down, wrapping a hand around his dick and bucking into it in time with Roy's movements.

As their movements synchronized, so did their breathing. Both were panting hard, moving faster and faster until Cole came with a throaty moan that Roy wanted to hear again and again.

It took only a few more thrusts for Roy to come as well. He leaned on Cole for a minute before pulling out, cursing as he glanced at the surface of the table. "Shit," he said. "You left a goddamn mess on the table. I'm going to have to clean that up later."

"Maybe you should think things through the next time you decide to fuck someone on it," Cole retorted.

Roy scowled. Cole was still breathing heavily, and he certainly wasn't going to let him have the last laugh in Roy's own apartment. "Come on," he said, grabbing Cole by the arm and leading him down a hallway. Cole stumbled slightly as he followed, unprepared to move again so quickly. His pants and shorts fell from around his ankles as they walked.

Roy pushed a door open and dragged Cole inside. He had just enough time to register that it was a bedroom before Roy shoved him roughly backwards. Cole bounced slightly as he landed on the bed.

"Take off your socks, Cole," Roy said as he removed his tie. "You look like an idiot."

Cole just sat and watched as Roy dropped his suit jacket on a chair in the corner and walked around to the nightstand on the left of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He opened a drawer and grabbed a bottle, which he placed on top of the table. Cole raised an eyebrow at him, but Roy just shrugged and tossed his shirt onto the chair as well. "What?" he said. "You can't expect me to carry my best stuff around with me all the time."

"It wouldn't be that odd," Cole said.

Roy laughed as he stepped out of his pants. "I notice you've still got your socks on. You really will look less stupid without them, you know." Cole did as he was told, albeit hesitantly; Roy grinned anyway. Who'd have thought he'd have the prim and proper Cole Phelps naked on his bed? "There you go. Now be a good boy and turn over."

When Cole hesitated, Roy didn't bother cajoling him; he just grabbed him by the sides and flipped him over. Cole's arms caught his weight, preventing him from falling face-first into Roy's sheets; this had the very agreeable side effect of putting him on all fours on top of the bed. Roy pulled off his boxers and grabbed the bottle from the nightstand.

He kept his feet on the floor as he pushed himself back into Cole, who Roy couldn't help noticing wasn't fighting back anymore. It seemed as if he was loosening up in all the right ways.

It was a hell of an affair, to have his body rolling into Cole's and feel Cole moving with him. Roy wasn't sweet about it--he was never sweet--but he took his time, letting Cole adjust to the rhythm before pushing harder, pushing faster.

The noises they made were small, neither of them shouting enthusiastically the way some of Roy's other visitors had done, but they seemed to fill the room with their grunts. Cole had grabbed handfuls of the sheets to steady himself, while Roy's kept a firm grip on Cole's hips. He shifted suddenly, wrapping an arm around Cole's chest to pull him upright, changing the angle of his thrusts. This adjustment was met with very vocal approval from Cole, whose sudden moans were driving Roy crazy. He quickened the pace again, and Cole grabbed at the arm across his chest.

Roy came with a groan, releasing his grip on Cole so that he fell forward onto the bed. He could tell that Cole was close as well. Roy reached out a hand to help him, but a thought occurred to him. With a smirk, he retracted the hand, pulled out, and stretched like he had just woken up. "You can finish up over there, right?" he asked, stepping away from the bed. "I think I'm going to hit the showers."

 

He was halfway to the door when Cole answered.

"No."

Roy didn't have time to wonder what that meant before he was pushed to his knees, a hand grabbing him roughly by the hair and forcing his face into the carpet.

"This doesn't seem much like you, partner." Roy made to throw the other man off him, but Cole's grip was like iron.

"Shut up."  The words came out as a growl.

For once, Roy did as he was told. He had to admit--neither having the tables turned on him nor the other detective's fingers inside him, stretching him out, were as unpleasant as he would have thought. His heart was pounding, and kneeling on the carpet this way wasn't exactly comfortable, but fuck if he wasn't aroused by it. He could feel blood rushing back into his stiffening prick.

The fingers left him just long enough for Cole to open the bottle he'd taken from the bed, slicking his cock before pressing it into Roy.

Cole didn't have Roy's experience or, frankly, his finesse, but he knew a thing or two about sex. He fucked the way he investigated--slowly, carefully, thoroughly. With every movement, Roy found himself aching for more. A voice said "Faster"; a moment later, Roy realized it was his own.

Cole took his orders well. The beat of his thrusts increased, encouraged by the moans he was drawing out of Roy's throat. His fingers gripped Roy's hips so tightly that he knew he wouldn't be the only one with marks from this night.

They came together, with simultaneous cries that harmonized better than they should have. Roy latched onto that sound, knowing that he was the one who had made it happen.

Cole stood up after pulling out, and Roy followed suit. They looked at each other for a moment before quickly turning away. Roy, his knees pink from their prolonged contact with the floor, dressed himself with casual movements. Once he had his pants on again, he threw his shirt back over his shoulders, though he left the front unbuttoned. Cole, meanwhile, winced slightly as he walked back through the halls in search of his fallen clothing. The flesh of his hips was tender, but he wouldn't know the extent of the bruising for a while.

Once he was fully dressed, save for the tie draped over his arm and the hat in his hand, Cole leaned against the frame of the door to Roy's room. Roy was wrapping up a telephone call; he put the receiver back in its cradle. "I called a cab," he told Cole. "It'll be out front in a few minutes."

"Thank you."

There was a pause. It seemed as though neither of them knew what they were supposed to say next. After a moment, Roy simply pushed past him, leading Cole back to the front door. He opened the door with an ironic bow, gesturing for the other detective to exit.

Cole pulled Roy in for one final kiss before he walked out into the hall. He could taste the blood from Roy's cut lip; he thought about why he had split it in the first place as he took the elevator down.

He wasn't sure if he regretted it.

He still wasn't sure a couple of weeks later, when Roy invited him back to his apartment for drinks after work. There was nothing in his face that showed any ulterior motives, but the implications were clear. Cole didn't know how to respond.

But he didn't refuse the offer as he drove to the next crime scene.


End file.
